Casualmente Innamorato
by Xep Lag
Summary: It's prom night. Lovino has lost his date, but she didn't want to be with him anyway. In any case, he won't be alone for long. Romerica, Gakuen!verse, to be taken with a grain of salt.


It was prom night. Tugged along by a girl who promptly abandonned him, probably jerked into accepting by her mother or something, Lovino sat in a corner of the gym and nibbled at the sorbet he'd gotten ahold of. He was one of the few who hadn't tried to find loopholes in the prom's dress code, and as such had been brushed off as a nerd, left instead for that idiot Antonio Carrieda with his dress shirt half-unbuttoned and his "slacks" tight enough to show off the exact curve of his ass. Lovino sat there in proper black slacks, carefully chosen shoes and a dress shirt the color of rich wine that had just gained a few lemon-flavored drops on the front.

It was always hard to host dances at this school, if only because the "one student per country" rule meant no one's tastes in clothes or food were the same. His brother and himself, the only real exception to the rule (although nowadays Sicily and Italy might as well be seperate countries) were the only ones who had the same tastes, and even at that the Vargas brothers differed radically. Ice cream was a constant, though. That's why all the dances had to have ice cream.

"Do you want to dance?"

He nearly jumped at the voice, failing to convince himself that it was directed at someone else. One, everyone was on the dance floor and nowhere near him. Two, the question was accompanied by a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the smiling face of one of the freshmen, probably dragged along and dumped just like him. Unkempt blond hair, soft blue eyes, square glasses with the rims taken off the top, unfashionable bomber jacket despite the formality of the event. Lovino was surprised he'd gotten a date to begin with, but he supposed that's the kind of guy the girls went for around here. And guys, guys liked that too. Stupid American... whatever his name was.

"Do you want to dance?" the jock repeated his question, a reckless grin playing on his lips as if he failed to see how Lovino could possibly refuse.

Lovino scowled in return, "I'm not a girl, asshole. Leave me alone."

"Oh, come on." he laughed, a booming noise that made several people look up curiously. "We both lost our dates, might as well still have fun!"

Lovino glanced at the dance floor, as immediately some Japanese song started playing. He felt a bit relieved after the Asia Minor class had monopolized the last half hour or so of music, but he could just tell it was a theme song from one of those anime things. Way, WAY too happy.

"Ha, I love this song!" the American crowed and took Lovino's hand, tugging him with such strength that he had to either follow or lose his arm.

Well, in that situation he didn't have much of a choice.

"I-I don't know how to dance, damnit." he admitted it in a rush, his skin beginning to burn with embarrassment. "And besides, you jerk, we don't even know each other."

"Well, I know you." he laughed in return, pulling him to the least inhabited corner of the dance floor, "Lovino Vargas, junior, European class. You're the Sicilian kid, right? You don't talk to people a lot. That's why you don't know me."

"I-I..."

"I'm from the American class. The American kid." he grinned importantly, still talking too fast for Lovino to keep up. "My name's Alfred Jones, I'm a freshman, and I've been watching you all year. You're really cool, you know. I wanna be friends with you."

"You think friends come that easily, bastard?"

"Yes?" Alfred gave him an innocent smile, "If you want to be friends with someone you go talk to them, right?"

"I..." Lovino's face felt like it was on fire.

Well, this wasn't the first time they'd met. That's not how schools work. Especially for someone as extroverted as Alfred F. Jones. But Lovino had never wanted to know him, so he never did. This stupid, overly tall and overly strong freshman was a person who made Lovino's skin feel hot every time he looked at him, someone who made his palms sweat just by being in the room and his heart skip a beat with that stupid giant's laugh. This was the first time they'd ever spoken, though. The first time Lovino listened to the words instead of the voice.

Now, somehow, they were on a dance floor together. Alfred spent the song holding Lovino's hands, guiding him through something that he seemed to think was a dance. Well, at least Lovino wasn't the only one with no grace. Or maybe it was how used to high-classed dances he was, that this "jiggy" was just way too foreign for his tastes.

The Japanese song ended, and an American one came on. The DJ announced it in English, which everyone at the school understood. "Accidentally in Love". Casualmente innamorato.

What a song to play for them. Here they were, a doting puppy of a boy in the body of a man, tugging on the heartstrings of an upperclassman from the slums of Sicily without even noticing. Did he notice? Was this a date or something? Did it count? Or was he just dancing because he was bored?

Well, those questions were answered quite easily.

The song was spent again with their hands perpetually joined, while half the school got bored and went to the sidelines. This time Alfred's movements weren't as jerky, they were fluid and somewhat romantic. They spun a lot. He whispered the lyrics to him, clearly remembered by heart, and made it easier for Lovino to translate them to Italian in his mind. When the song was three minutes in, Lovino was sure he'd spent a truly fullfilling lifetime in Alfred's hands.

_Accidentally... I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love..._

_Accidentally... I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love..._

Suddenly Lovino felt a soft pressure on his lips, and he realized his eyes had been shut in bliss. They opened to see that soft blue staring back steadily, faces too close to be innocent. Their mouths had to be joined. And while the feelings inside him ranged from "this is magical" to "why am I here" and welled up with a force that made him fear exploding, they stayed like that until the song was over.

His first kiss. That was it. As they broke off, he touched two fingers quietly to his lips and grinned like an idiot. Alfred's grin returned it, but he always looked like an idiot. That was his appeal.

The song changed, something or other in French. Lovino missed the title. He missed the music, the people around him, and the wolf-whistles and catcalls that had come from everyone witnessing him kiss the American kid. He saw himself and Alfred, and that satisfied him.


End file.
